Grandpa said he thought it was very nice indeed, of Jenny to show Jean her baby, and they had been waiting for her to come and name it.

“Oh, oh!” cried Jean again, “and I have a name all ready.  It is Daisy.”

VAIN WISHES.

By Helen I. Castella.

     Sometimes I think I’d like to be
     A duck to splash in the pond so free: 
     And then again I’ve pondered o’er
     The hen that clucks near the barnyard door. 
     The guinea’s life is freer than all,
     She wanders off, nor listens to call,
     But the pine cone chips that fall on me,
     Remind me of squirrels far up in the tree—­
     The nuts they’re gath’ring to store away
     ’Gainst skies of winter’s cold and grey. 
     There’s something else that skips so free
     Through the brush with hardly a glance at me;
     With his furry coat, he’s quick as a wink,
     Would I be a rabbit?  I stop and think. 
     But between you and I—­
     After all, what’s the use
     In spending my time regretting? 
     There’s only one thing I’ll turn into—­
     A goose! 
     If I waste many moments in fretting!

The Things in the Garden

By Gertrude Warner

Rose and Marguerite were playing in the nursery when they heard a queer bumping noise down in the back yard.

“What’s that?” asked Rose, stopping to listen.

“That’s Stubby, kicking his heels against the settee.  He’s awful cross today,” said Marguerite, and kept right on making the doll’s bed.  In a second Rose had her head out of the window.  There sat Stubby, kicking his heels against the settee and looking dreadfully cross.

“Why, Stubby dear, what’s the matter?” she called sweetly.

“Nuffin’,” said Stubby.

“Why don’t you play with the things in the garden?”

“What fings?”

“Wait a minute and we’ll come down and show you,” Rose said, drawing her head in.

“How can you play with that cross, cross Stubby?” asked Marguerite.  “He isn’t sick, and we’ve done everything to please him all day.  He’s just plain cross.  And if you play with him we can’t finish arranging the playhouse before five o’clock.”

[Illustration:  Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y.]

“Mother said I might stay till six,” said Rose gently, “and I’ve thought of something to keep him busy.  Come!”

Marguerite gave Rose a bear-hug and soon Stubby saw them coming across the lawn.  Rose stopped under the apple tree to look for green apples.

“Muvver says not eat green apples,” shouted Stubby.

Rose held up a little one.  “Come on,” she called.  “Find one the size of that!”

Stubby became interested in spite of himself, and more so, as Rose began picking thorns off the rosebush and sticking them into the apple for eyes, nose and mouth.